A Lethal Smile
by The Jade Knight
Summary: My name is Harry, and I started life alone in a cupboard. Then I made a wonderful discovery; all of life is a joke! This is my tale of a twisted Hogwarts filled with Riddles and Scarecrows. Dark Knight xover. Dark!Harry
1. A Clown In The Cupboard

Disclaimer: I do not own any Harry Potter or Batman ideas, heroes or villains.

Sanity, insanity? What is the real difference? While watching the Joker beat the mickey out of Batman the other day, I got thinking. Many of the Harry Potter characters are in perfect positions to lose their minds!

I see Two-Face flipping his coin in the Great Hall. I see the Riddler in Potions class. I see countless other villains causing mayhem in the school of magic, spilling their happy madness over the world.

Be warned, thee who read; things are going to change. I will stay faithful to the main things, but others will change. Sometimes even sexes... who knows, we may have a female penguin?

I will be joining them in their insanity, writing from first person throughout, so no nattering about it, or i'll get nasty. That being said... blood is a must, and screams, and a little insanity. M rating for even the first chapter I think.

and here we go...

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* * *

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This is page five of the transcript taken from the recordings of the man calling himself the Joker. These pages are not to be take out of the Auror's Special Investigations Unit office. They are being provided for the express purpose of the recapture of all Arkham escapees.

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August 13, 1996

St. Mungo's – Arkham Wing

Patient number: 19330

Name: Harry James Potter

Session three

Doctors present: Dr. Trent

---

Doctor Trent – 'So, Harry.'

Mr. Potter – 'I've told you before to call me Joker. Am I stuttering? Am I speaking in tongues? I don't think I'm inhabited by any spirits, so either I'm stuttering, which would be unfortunate; or you are ignoring my request. Are you ignoring my request? I'll tell you right now, that is a very bad idea.'

Doctor Trent – 'No, Harry, I am not ignoring your request. I believe it is in your best interests to get used to hearing your given name again.'

Mr. Potter – 'Oh, is that what it is? Funny, it still sounds like your ignoring me though, and there's only room for one Joker in this room.'

Doctor Trent 'Alright, Harry.'

Mr. Potter – 'Joker, last warning. And understand that I don't usually give those, unless it will be funnier. Think about that for a moment.'

Doctor Trent – 'How about we talk about your child hood?'

–

* * *

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**Chapter 1: A ****Clown**** in the ****Cupboard**

_There were these two guys in a lunatic asylum... _

-Harry

Control.

Everything is about control. Control comes from power, but what does power come from? Right now I have none. I hear a bellow and know that the fat man has had a bad day at work, and when he has a bad day at work, it's an even worse evening for me.

I am thrown back into the cupboard, and the fat man yells something about me getting no meals. I lay down on the floor and turn so that I can see the TV under the door. The news is on and I have one last piece to understand. I think I'm finally getting close. For years I tried to get _them_ to accept me, maybe even love me, but it never worked. They tried to control me with anger and hate, but after a time I began to figure out I had more control over them then they did over me.

Whispered words in the dark of night. The sounds of creaking stairs and cups in the kitchen. I remember that day very well. I had figured out a way to pick the lock from the inside of the cupboard door years ago, and that night I was getting some food when they came down. There was no time to get back into the cupboard, and the last time they caught me up after dark sneaking food I got a horrible beating. So I darted into the cupboard under the sink and stayed as quiet as I could, hoping that they wouldn't hear me.

"He'll be eleven this year Vernon," said my aunt, e have to do something."

"I promised you when we agreed to keep him that I would stamp that freakishness out of him, and I have. We haven't seen anything freakish from him in almost a year and a half. The last time it was only his hair growing back, the time before that it was that rubbish with the toy fixing itself. We haven't really had to worry about him since that time he popped himself up onto the school."

"I know, but what if it's not gone? What if he's just holding it in?" Petunia asked, pouring two cups of tea.

"Then I'll stomp harder!" Vernon boomed.

"Shhh, don't wake Duddy."

"Sorry, dear. But you must understand that I will not let that freak hurt you or Dudley, I promise. If I have to teach him a lesson every day after supper, just so that nasty school never even sends him a letter, I will."

"I know you will," she cooed. "You're an excellent husband and a perfect father."

I wasn't sure why they feared me, but they did. I could never understand why fear of me and a school seemed to be related, but I did understand the other part. Strange things have always gone on around me, and I hate to admit it, but the fat man is right; they have been happening less often.

It was a month later when I got another piece of this new and interesting puzzle. I knew that the Dursley's told all the teachers at the school that I was a hooligan or a hood or something. I'm not sure of the exact wording, but I do know that the teachers feared me too. They thought I was dangerous. I didn't fit into their neat little lives. They weren't afraid of what I was yet, but they were afraid of what I might become. They thought I was going to be a street drifter, a desperate man mugging and murdering to get by, or for pleasure. They thought I had no future, and in a place where everything had it's place; where they all had such _plans_ for their children, I didn't belong.

I remember sitting on a swing one time, just watching the other children being picked up. I remember wondering if they knew the kind of masks their parents are wearing? I see the brown eyed woman come to pick up her daughter; those same eyes that feared me as she kicked me away from her daughter the one time I tried to make friends with her.

I saw the blond man pick up his two sons in his big suv. I remember a year ago when I tried to run away from the fat man, that same suv almost ran me over. I used to be very good friends with his son, back before. I suppose he wanted someone to blame his sons failing grades on, and I was convenient.

They all went about their business so properly, everyone of them lying through their teeth. They paint on their fake smiles and say their rehearsed lines. I once experimented with that. In any given moment there were only a certain number of accepted responses. Whether it be calling someone over for tea, or even cursing out someone who cut you off on the road; even when they later claim to have lost control they still keep within those unspoken lines. All you have to do is understand where those lines are, and suddenly you can predict what almost anyone can do in almost any situation.

I spent many nights understanding that.

I would sneak out of my cupboard every night like always, but instead of going to the kitchen, I went outside. I wandered down the streets and, I suppose on some level I was becoming what those liars at the school feared I would. I saw many things at night. Fear told me many things about who people really were, and the darkness of a moonless night revealed just as much.

I saw one of my teachers standing on a street corner. She had a husband and two children, yet for some reason she was out here. I was too young to understand everything that I saw, but I understood enough. She had a painted on face like everyone else, but she at least seemed to know it. She didn't change it, but she knew.

I was there the night a man drove up and pulled a knife on her. He was yelling about money and banished that knife around very close to her face. She got frightened, and began to cry, and the most miraculous thing happened. I had wandered around for a few weeks, but Mrs Honey was one I could never figure out. But under a knife; under_ fear_, I saw the paint come off and the true face come out.

I moved closer, and listened as she cried and went on. Apparently she had a gambling problem, it started when she was younger. Her husband knew about it, but didn't stop her in time. She owed a lot of people a lot of money, and they got tired of trying to collect, so they turned the debt over to a local mob boss. Now she was working to pay it off, because they knew where her children were. He took some money from her, and his knife went away. Her mask came back up and he drove off.

I had a lot to think about that night.

Over the next few weeks I saw many things, but there was one constant that I figured out quickly. Fear is the only truth. People lie, and plan and scheme their whole day. But throw in a little fear and everything comes tumbling down; everyone loses their minds and all their lies and masks are useless or forgotten. Then I met the man with the gun.

Every night I usually ended up at a convenience store run by an old man. He didn't ask questions and I didn't try to steal from him like I sometimes did; we had an understanding. Then one night a man walks in, he's wearing a stretchy black fabric over his face and in his hand is a rather old looking pistol. He shouted a lot and waved his gun around a lot. The two other people in the store immediately dropped to the floor and started screaming.

I stood still and watched him. I was just behind the coffee bar, so I guess he didn't see me. People screamed, and I'm pretty sure the man with tattoos pissed himself. Everyone was scared, and I took it all in. The old man was shot, but he survived. I still see him some nights. Over the next few weeks you couldn't go anywhere without someone talking about 'the shooting'.

There were security camera pictures on TV and even posters with his face, asking people to identify him. There were interviews on the news; parents saying that they wouldn't let their kids outside until he's caught; young women saying that they wouldn't go out alone with him 'on the loose'. And they always used the same words; on the loose, at the end of his rope, danger to himself and others. Even as they claimed terror and panic, they still played by their rules; still said all of their lines.

What confused me was what happened later.

They found the man a few days later, holed up in his friends house. Apparently his friends girl-friend is the one that called the police. She said she was afraid. She faced the fear and found her mask wanting. I hate cowards.

So, turns out he's only a few blocks away. I think to myself, 'why not go pay the man a visit?' I wait until it's night time and sneak out again. His place is only a few blocks away from the fat man's house, so it doesn't take me too long to get there. I walk up from an alley and keep to the shadows; don't want any 'helpful' police to get any ideas.

Flashing lights are everywhere. Red and blue flicker and flash over everything. They make my eyes hurt, but I look anyway. People in uniforms are everywhere; setting up their street signs and unrolling their yellow tape. People shout into megaphones and cellphones, or just seem to like yelling. Someone is crying into a megaphone telling someone in the house the usual lines of how much they love them and need them. And everywhere are guns. And not just dirty old ones either; they wouldn't miss fire twice like that night in the store. Little hand guns gleam in the blue and red light. Large barrel looking guns are being passed out from trunks and there is even a black van with S.W.A.T. on the side. They're pulling out dozens of different guns, all of their men and women wearing black shiny armor and helmets; all hiding their faces like the man in the store.

I watch, and feel amazed as people continue to come out of their identically perfect houses and line up all around to stare and gawk like idiots. There are more guns then I can count being waved around, but this time no one runs or screams or pisses themselves. They just line up like chickens and watch. There was so much panic before over one little gun that barely worked, why are they so calm? All of these guns look shiny and well cared for; I'm very sure they will work the first time. Why is no one running?

Before I can think further, a dozen people wearing helmets that hid their face – much like the man's stretchy fabric – broke in the front door and ran in. There was a deep pause, and then an explosion. The windows in the perfect little house lite up with the flashes of guns and the air filled with cracks. Crashes and screams echoed from inside the house, and no one on the sidewalk ran away, some even moved closer!

I went to sleep very confused that night.

Now the news said all kinds of interesting things. According to them, the coward woman was a hero, and apparently the mayor was going to give her a medal. They went on to say how heroic – they made sure to say that word many times – the heavily armed police were, charging into a small house with five people inside, only two of whom had any sort of weapon. They showed pictures of the crime scene. They showed the 'heroic' police and all of their guns. They even showed the two surviving members of the 'crime syndicate' being walked out, followed by three black body bags, and the people _cheered_?

At the little store, there was one man with an old gun, and only one person was injured, but so lightly that I saw him back at work three nights after. Now they have a hundred people with a hundred working guns, three people dead and another shot in the shoulder and they cheer? I was starting to get a headache from trying to understand until the news person said they had an exclusive with the police commissioner.

He rambled on about how brave his people were – he said heroic a lot also – until he hit something that made it all make sense. He said that everything had gone according to plan.

According to plan!

That was it!

One man with a gun injuring another for a few dollars was outside the_ plan_, and so it didn't fit in. Everyone went insane because one man didn't follow the plan! Now a hundred people with a hundred guns_ killing_ people? That was part of the plan, so it was perfectly acceptable. Everyone watched in interest and cheered.

Control comes from power.

The only true power; the only true truth, is fear.

He who goes against the plan causes chaos, and from chaos comes fear.

He who is an agent of chaos has control!

I can become my own person! I can shed this hate that is forced on me because I will not abide by their plan, by actively _fighting_ the plan.

-

The moon is bright tonight. I like it when the moon is full; I always feel more energetic. A few bats flutter peacefully across the rooftops. There must be a nest somewhere close. I had just visited the old man again and now I had a little bag of candies. There were a few little sour ones and a few sweet ones. They were really quite tasty. I had never had candies before, but now I understand why Dudley is always eating them. I had never had money before I stole it, but now I can understand why everyone is so obsessed with it. I still don't understand why people are obsessed with millions of dollars though; everything I like or could ever want is cheap.

I pop another little candy into my mouth as I turn down a darker street. Some of the street lights are out and the few that are left draw long shadows around everything. I see a couple with a child in front of me and a man coming down the other side of the street. I got a little tingle on the back of my neck, the same tingle that always told me the fat man was in a bad mood.

"I'm tired father," whined the little boy. "When can we go home?"

"Now, now," replied his father. "What have I told you about whining?"

"Sorry."

"Don't let it happen again," he said sternly. "And as for going home, we just need to get somewhere out of the sight of the muggles."

That's a word I haven't heard before, hmm. Anyway, there's no time to think on it. The man across the street was crossing, and I was getting a very weird feeling from him. He lightly stepped up onto the sidewalk and continued toward us with his head down and his hands in his pockets. The man who had scolded his son slipped a hand into the pocket of his crisp tuxedo. I wonder if he has a gun? I pop another sweet into my mouth and follow along.

The man in the overcoat suddenly pulls something from his pocket; something that flashes in the dim light. The man in the suit matches his movements, drawing what looks like a twig from his pocket. The sound of metal scraping and then the sound of flesh tearing. The man in the suit drops his stick and clutches at his bloody hand, but the man with the knife wastes no time and makes a second slash across the mans throat, spilling crimson blood all down his neat suit.

"Lucius!" the woman screams. She shouldn't have done that. The man with the knife twists and cuts twice more. The pears from around her neck fly off in a spray of blood, showering the blond boy clutching her leg. He screams next, but the knife is still this time.

I pop another candy in my mouth just as the man holding the knife looks to me. "Why aren't you screaming or running?"

"You're not attacking me," I said simply. "Even then I'd like to think I'm well on my way to controlling fear."

"Really?" he asked, not minding the little blond boy shaking his father.

"Father, please get up!"

"Aren't you afraid of my blade? It's very sharp, and you've just seen me kill two people?"

"I think guns are faster."

"Ahhh yes," he agreed. "They are faster, but unless I'm very pressed for time I prefer a knife. With a knife, you get to savor all of those little, _emotions_, in their final moments."

"I see," I replied, eating the last of my candy and dropping the bag. "Would you like to know what I believe in?"

Between us the blond boy was crying hysterically over his dead parents. "Help me!" he begged, looking at me. I suppose I might have, but his parents were already dead. There was no point.

"Sure, why not?"

"I believe that everyone, consciously or not, is following the plan. They scheme and try to manipulate the world around them, but they're all still slaves to the plan. I, on the other hand, found that the only real way to live was to go against the plan. I'm no one's slave."

"Interesting," the man says, stalking a little closer to me. "And what are you planning to do now?"

"Well, the plan says that I should fear you. A neat idea in itself, I'm sure you've realized that fear is the only way to the real truth. But I don't like to follow the plan." I lunged at him, startling him in my blatant shirking of the plan. He gathered himself before I could make it too close, and he took a swipe at me. I tried to duck under the blade, but I reacted too slow and I felt the incredibly sharp blade tear into one side of my face and out the other. Pain exploded in my head, but I was used to pain and knew how to push through it.

I clamped his hand in my own, twisting until he dropped his knife. I kicked him in the groin with a shout and enjoyed his girly scream of pain. I grabbed up his knife and slashed him across the face a few times before I managed to hit his neck and slit a main vain. Blood gushed over my feet as he fell. He squirmed and kicked for a moment, trying desperately to hold his blood in, but it was no use and he died soon after.

"Help me!" the blond boy screamed again.

"It's too late kid," I said, feeling my mouth tear more. I wiped the blood off of the knife and considered it for a moment before I put it in my pocket. "They're dead. Move on."

-

I went home, leaving the boy to cry over his dead parents. Someone would find him soon. When I got back to the hell hole I immediately went up to the bathroom. I washed off as much of the blood on my face as I could, but the bloody rips on my face still bled. I could really use one of those weird things to happen right now. I suppose it's worth a try. I focused on my face really hard, almost trying to will my face back together, but after a few minutes and a small headache I gave up.

I wandered downstairs and picked the lock on the medicine cupboard in the kitchen. After I got it open I searched around and found a bottle of some pain killers. I popped a few and chewed. Dragging the chair back to the table I turned to leave, and came face to torn and bloody face with Dudley.

I expected him to scream or yell at the least, but he just sleepily pushed his way past me and into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and got a can of pop, downed it, and then walked out again muttering something about a useless freak. Why didn't he scream or yell about me? I must look gruesome. I felt more blood beginning to run down my face, so I went back up stairs. It wasn't until I looked back into the mirror that I understood.

The face looking back at me was normal. There was no tattered grin or blood flaked cheeks. I looked like I did this morning. Then, as I watched, the image slowly faded until I was staring at my wide grin again. Oh, great. Maybe this freakish stuff was useful after all.

I experimented for the next few hours until I could hide my face all together. I'm not quite sure how I was doing it, but it was still just an illusion; if I tried to touch my face I felt the blood and torn flesh. Well, I supposed I can't anyone get to close then; ha, like that was a problem with the Dursley's. Anyways, I should try to close these cuts up somehow. I search around, but all I can find is a large needle and some yarn. Not the best things to use. Guess I'll have some scars to enjoy then. I chuckle to myself as I slowly sew my face back together with the bright green thread.

Well, it was getting late and I would have to cook the fat man his breakfast. I was just about to go downstairs when I remembered the knife I had taken. I pulled it out and looked over it again. It was a straight razor, kind of like the one the fat man shaves with, when he bothers with hygiene. It had a pearl handle and the blade was stainless steel and very sharp. I admired it, before stashing it away again.

-

I was laying down under the tree outside the next night, just staring up at the sky. I have to actively create chaos or I'll go back to the way I was before eh? Well, I don't want that. I pull my new knife out of my pocket and flicking it open and closed a few times. I rolled it around in my hand for a bit, enjoying the feel of it. I was still learning how to truly control chaos and fear. Until I was a master – and maybe even after – I needed an … opponent. Someone or something to test myself against. If I died in the process, then I wasn't meant to be an agent of chaos and my life is meaningless anyway. But if I do succeed, I could become something incredible.

"What are you doing out so late son?"

I bolt up. Damn, I'm better then this! No one should be able to sneak up on me. I glare at the man standing just on the other side of the hedge. He is wearing a uniform and shines a flashlight on me. Cops. Fuck, I hate cops. And if he saw the knife still in my hand, well there would be a problem. Suddenly, violently and all over the place; just like the mugger. But when a moment passed he didn't say anything about a knife, I chanced a look at my own hand brightened by the flashlight. There was nothing! I could still feel the handle in my palm, but I couldn't see it.

"Son?" he asked again.

"I'm just enjoying the stars," I lie easily. "My father just went back into the house to get some more juice. He'll be right back, mister officer."

"Well don't stay out to long." Another tired old line. Pathetic. "You don't want to be too tired for school."

"No sir," I replied in a childish voice, and he went away.

Now what the hell happened to my knife? I turn my hand over a few times. It was a curious sensation, to feel a knife in your hand, but be unable to see it; I could even close my hand into a fist and not even feel anything. The sensation of a knife resting there was still present, but for all I knew it was just a feeling. I turned my hand over again, and, wanting to see my knife again, something happened. The light around my hand bend slightly, and then my knife was there. I twisted my wrist again, and after a few tries managed to vanish it.

Interesting.

I played around with my new ability for a while before I got bored with it and began to think. An opponent. The light catches the blade in my hand again and I stare down at it, remembering the man with the knife threatening my school teacher.

The mob knew the truth of fear. Did they also know the role of chaos? Maybe. But even If they didn't … it might be fun. I grin widely, feeling a little pull on my hasty stitches. But I couldn't take the mob on by myself. At least not yet. I would need … underlings, people to do as I say. Soldiers. Yes, that's it. But where to find them.

Ah, I know.

I laugh into the night sky.

They were always afraid that I'd become a hood or gang member; I think it's about time I lead a few.

-

"Zack! We can't just leave them in there!" a woman shouted.

I had been searching around the more rundown parts of the town until I happened to stumble onto these bags of fun. They called themselves the purple farts or something. They could use a lot of work, but I was pretty sure they would make a good starting army. I had seen about twenty or thirty people come into this old warehouse over the last few days, and this Zack seems to be their leader. Well, time to go said hi!

"They knew what they were doing! All of us do. It's their own fault the cops got them."

I sneak in through the skylight and down a flight of maintenance stairs. I stand in the shadows just outside the circle of light cast by the few remaining light bulbs. Show time in five! I slowly let the illusion on my face fall, showing my green stitches and smiling face for all to see. There are about a dozen of them right now.

Zack is a typical little gang wannabe. He's decently muscled and about six foot three; a full foot over me. He wears a beaten up leather jacket and a pair of ratty jeans, and judging from the looks he was getting, he was no longer the majority leader. Any second now I'm sure one of those tough looking types in the corners are going to try to take leadership forcefully.

"Trouble in paradise?" I ask smoothly, making sure to keep back a little, so that they can't make out all of me.

"Who's there?" Zack shouted. The girl that had been shouting at him also turned to me. She had dyed purple hair and looked almost sickly thin.

"Avon calling?" I called, quickly followed by a cackle. "What? No? How about private investigator? I've come to investigate your privets!" I laughed again, and this time I was joined by two of the larger men. Good. A family who laughs together, kills together.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Zack yelled, getting a little red in the face.

"I'm not too sure," I answered truthfully. "And a side note; I take back that private investigator thing. You look like you might enjoy it a little too much." A oriental woman joined the two men.

"Look punk, I don't care who you are, but this is Purple Pythons territory and we don't like visitors."

"Purple Pythons? Ahh that was it. I don't know why but I thought it was the purple farts. Although, I don't suppose the initials Pee Pee are any better. Have to take a wiz when you thought up the name Zacky-boy?"

"Fuck you!" he bellow, pulling a silver gun from under his shirt.

"Oh, a gun?" I asked, with amusement. I decided now was a good time to walk out. Slowly, looking as if I had all the time in the world, I stepped into the light. The few chuckles and smiled that were left fell fast as they got a good look at my face. I was still wearing my school uniform, and that, tied with the blood soaked green stitches on my face; well I must look a fright! HA! "Anyone ever tell you not to bring a gun to a knife fight?" With a twist of my wrist I pulled my pearl handled razor out of wherever it went.

"Holy shit," someone said in a whisper.

"What do you want?" asked Zack in a slightly shaky voice. He was trying to hide it, but I saw. It was something very close to fear, and fear was truth. He was a coward, and most likely a squealer. Looking around at the others I saw one more coward – the oriental woman – but the rest seemed salvageable. Alright, let's begin the hostile takeover.

"What do I want?" I asked, looking hurt. "I want what anyone wants. A few friends, leadership of a gang, and all you can eat jello."

"What are you? Some kind of Joker?"

"Hmm," I said slowly. "You know, that's not a bad idea. Life is such a joke. Everyone going about their little lives; so insignificant. They try and try to be someone in this huge world, but they follow the plan, they have to follow the plan. Life tosses them aside like freaks and puppy killers if they don't follow the plan. And the plan doesn't want them to be somebody. It wants them to be like everyone else. The perfect punchline if you ask me. All of life is a joke!" I crowed before falling into laughter.

"Kid, you're really starting to piss me off."

I didn't even give him a chance to finish his sentence before I was a blur of movement. I ran forward as fast as I could, dropped and slid between his legs, raising my knife and cutting his danglies as I passed. He screamed, dropped his gun and grabbed his crotch. I cackled again and jumped up onto his back. I grabbed a handful of hair and pulled back, slitting his throat. He kicked and gurgled before dropping to the floor. "Yeehaw!" I cheered from his thrashing back until he stopped moving. "Aw, is it over already? And here's me without another quarter."

"Anyone else wanna try for leader?" I asked sportingly. Good to give them chances for advancement. A guy screamed with anger and charged me. Judging from the amount of anger and the tears in his eyes I supposed he and Zack were a 'thing'. I ducked under an arm and put a cut on his ribs. When he flinched away and dropped his arms to guard the wound I went for the eyes. He screamed again and held his bloody face in agony. I kicked him over, and took my time going to retrieve Zack's gun. I made my way back over to the boy toy, and then put him out of his misery with a bang and a little cloud of smoke.

"Anyone else?" I asked evenly. I got no answer so I assumed they were all content with me as a leader. "Alright first orders of business. You are all now renamed 'The Crimson Carnival' and you all report to me. Our overall goal is to take down the mob and breed as much chaos as we can, but I understand that is a lofty goal, and we will start small with banks and the like. Any questions?"

None raised a hand; they all just stared at the ten year old standing over two dead and bloody bodies with a bloody knife in one hand and a gun in the other. They'll have to get tough somehow. "Good, I'll be Charlie and you can all be my angels." I looked over to the hairy fat guy. "Except you, you can be Bosley."


	2. Creating The Family

Alright, here's the deal. My computer died... and so, until I can afford a new one, these updates are going to be coming very slowly. I will get to the re-londonizing of the first and second chapters when i get back to one hundred percent. But i thought you might like to read this as a tasty bite. It still needs to be beta-ed, but my partner in crime is pretty busy right now... so please excuse any errors.

I also put a 'doctor's interview' in chapter one too. chack it out.

Later

Jade knight

* * *

Jade Knight

August 15, 1996

St. Mungo's – Arkham Wing

Patient number: 19330

Name: Harry James Potter

Session five

Doctors present: Dr. Weeks

-

* * *

-

Doctor Weeks – 'Hello Mister Potter, I will be you primary psychologist for a time.'

Mr. Potter – 'I was wondering who they'd send next.'

Doctor Weeks – 'So I see someone has told you about the Doctor Trent's vacation time?'

Mr. Potter – 'If that's what you think it is.'

Doctor Weeks – 'Now Mister Potter, we have all heard your threats and claims, but I am under the understanding that most if not all of them you are just taking credit for. You didn't have anything to do with Doctor Trent, just like you had nothing to do with Sirius Black and just as you have nothing to threaten me with.'

Mr. Potter – 'Brave one huh? Your going to be much more fun then that old fossil.'

Doctor Weeks – 'I'm glad you approve Mister Potter, now, I see you went over some early experiences with Doctor Trent. Could you tell me what happened next?'

Mr. Potter – 'Why not, but call me Joker.'

-

* * *

**Chapter 2: Creating the Family**

-

"The cops busted Jack, Victor and Monk when they tried to rob a corner store. It was stupid, they knew that, but Aunt Vicky had no food left."

"Who is Aunt Vicky?" I asked slowly. The young woman in biker leathers and buzzed hair was giving me the gist of where the rest of my new gang was.

"She's no one's aunt, but we all call her that anyways. She takes in children off the street; hell I was one of them. She raises them like her own. She must have almost a dozen with her now, and she had no food for them. They only wanted to help."

I leaned back on my wooden crate and thought for a minute. I had taken over leadership a few days ago, and had yet to find a new HQ. The warehouse would do for now, I suppose, but I'm going to have to get a new place soon. Especially if I want to make room for plenty of … aggressive expansion. I chuckled a little to myself and got a weird look from one of the big guys. They all seemed to have a little trouble following some of my orders; but all I had to do was flick my knife out again and they fall in line. Like I said, salvageable.

"So, all we have to do is waltz right into a police station, preferably loaded down with weapons, and break out our buddies?" I asked, getting a nervous nod in response. "Sounds fun!"

"Thank you, Joker," the buzzed girl; Anent said.

"Now I have a few ideas that – SQUEIRL!" I suddenly shouted, looking off to the left. Everyone immediately followed my gaze, trying to see what I saw; Ha, it'll be many more years before they can see that much. "HAHA! Made ya look!" I cackled, getting a few grins and a couple tired faces. Hmm, can't have that.

"Cheer up! You all look like you could use some redbull."

"We're just tired sir," said John, one of the big hairy types.

"Reeeedbull," I said slowly, pulling a can out of seemingly nowhere.

"No thanks, sir I -"

"Redbull!" I screamed and pinged a can off his head. "Now cheer up and get up. We're going to get supplies for our jailbreak." There was general cheering and even a 'whoot' from someone. It's good to breed a sense of loyalty in your underlings. But like hell am I going to shelter cowards or squealers; they'll only take us down in the end. I glanced over at the oriental woman that I had picked out when I first took over. I had something special planned for her.

"I know a good gun dealer," said John, rubbing his bump. "He can get us a few semi's, maybe even something a little bigger like a shotgun or two."

"Good," I said. "But first we have to get the_ really_ important things out of the way."

John frowned, and checked the faces of his comrades to see if they understood. "Sir?"

"The costume shop, of course!"

-

It was called 'Perry's Costume and Party Store', and it didn't look half bad. I still could only get away at night, so the place was closed when we got there. One of the kids, a Jacob, if I remember right was a bit of a geek. He got us into the building without any annoying alarms or cops, and he even managed to turn off the cameras before we got in. No sense in getting costumes if they know what you looked like underneath. I passed all of the pirate, ghost and animal costumes. I caught site of Anent looking rather intently at a gray kitten costume. Hmm, I wonder if that girl was in tune with her inner fursona? I laughed to myself as we continued on toward the masks.

"All right, everyone split up and find something sparkly, or pretty, or whatever. Just make sure it'll be good for a few heists and has something to do with our name." I chuckled as all twenty two of my soldiers ran through the racks, looking for their new selves. "Grab a mask, and maybe a few other little things like a tie or bunny ears or something, but no body suits. We're a respectable organization after all, and you'll need your hands and wits about you when we kick the doors down.

I passed Anent buttoning up a long tailed coat and throwing a hat on. I reached into a jar of fake mustaches and got her a big one. She took it with a little grin and her 'ring master' look was on its way. Next was John, who went with a very nice monster clown mask, complete with dripping fangs and wide insane eyes. I passed a couple clowns who just grabbed a couple cases of gawdy makeup. I nodded when they held them up for inspection. If they wanted to go with makeup that was fine. I was careful to make note of the dark hood and noose that Trisha the coward picked out.

"What are you going to wear, sir?" John asked coming over

"Are you going to get a club or something?" I asked. "I think a bat or something would go well with that mask.

He grinned. "I was thinking about it, but a gun is a better 'hold up' weapon."

"True, but the thing about guns is that most people don't know what they feel like. They see people getting shot on TV and they think it's not such a big deal; the hero always seems to find the strength to go on even if he has a dozen bullets in him. But show them a club or baseball bat, or even a knife; we'll then, you've changed the game. Everyone has been cut or struck, its a familiar pain, and the fear of feeling it again makes them hesitate."

"That's … interesting," he said slowly, considering my words. Good; he's willing to expand his mind, so far he's the most mouldable of the lot. The rest still clung a little too tightly to their humanity; disgusting safety blanket.

"But on the subject of my own look … I don't know. I've taken the name Joker, so something related is definitely called for." I walked through the racks slowly, not really sure what I was looking for. Most of the kiddies were done shopping, so I got a few suggestions here and there, but nothing really felt … right.

I stopped in front of a full length mirror and I considered myself. I hadn't taken the thick yarn stitches out of my face yet, but I should be able to soon; the rips on my cheeks seemed to be almost healed. It actually looked a lot like a wide smile. I chuckled. All of life was a joke, and now I'm always smiling! I burst out into hysterical laughter and a few of the boys join me.

"I have an idea," Anent said, coming over to me with a little try of makeup. I glanced over the the few who had it on and considered their painted smiled with those stars and diamonds on their cheeks. I didn't like a lot of it, but it did have some potential. I took the tray of makeup from her. Blues and reds and whites. All very bright and cheerful; but the world wasn't cheerful. It was gawdy lights and glitter over broken pipes and leaking water.

"Someone get me some water," I called, and before long a bottle of water was being pressed into my hands. I poured it all over the tray of makeup, watching the little multicolored waterfalls roll off my finders. I spread the white over my whole face, but because it was so watery it didn't cover like a mask. Perfect. Then the black went around my eyes, casting them into shadow so that only the bright green of my irises showed. I grabbed a tube of red lipstick from the shelf and put it on my lips clumsily, spreading it up each scar, leaving little clumps of it on the green yarn. I grinned madly at my own reflection and got a few noised of appreciation from the boys.

"Here," said Anent, offering me a blue jacket. It fit nice and all but it wasn't right. I passed it back and wandered over to the rack. I spent a few moments flipping through it, passing the same purple jacket twice before I finally gave it and pulled it on. It was just a costume jacket, so it was made of cheap fabric; it probably wouldn't last too long. I arranged it around my shoulders until it fit comfortably. I went back to the tall mirror and liked what I saw. Maybe I'd have a few more jackets like this made when I got some money. I turned around to look at the back. Very nice.

"Now that we're all dressed up, all we need is a carriage and the party favors and we can go to the ball!" I cheered happily. A couple of the boys laughed with me; Anent too. I was just leading my little group out, like the clown piper when something on the counter by the register caught my eye. It was a deck of card, but the label said that instead of a regular set, they were all jokers. I smiled widely and ripped open the pack, taking one out I motioned for one of the boys to clean out the register. Once all the money was gone I slipped the card into the tray and closed it.

"Sir?" asked John.

"Just leaving my card," I replied, getting a few laughs.

-

"Don't worry, we'll find your parents," the older Sargent said kindly while crouching down to me. I sniffed a little and generally pretended to be a snot-nosed little brat missing his mommy. The Sargent, a Johnson if I read his name tag right, went to go get me a cup of juice. I chanced a look up as the cops brought in two 'drunks' and started to lead them through to the holding cells.

John, his monster mask in his hands yelled loudly about mind control and aluminum potatoes as they led him along. Trisha the coward stumbled along after him. Two more of my soldiers were handcuffed to a bench, awaiting processing, and the third was loudly complaining to the Desk Sargent about the catlady that lived 'next door'. They last two of our little party group had been taken in earlier today and were already in place down in the holding cells. Now all we were waiting for was...

The lights flickered one, and then twice, signaling that Jacob had finished hacking into the security system. No live pictures would be broadcast from the security monitors to the hub for the next twenty minutes. All we had to do was make sure we took the physical tapes and Jacob would take care of the rest. I caught John's eye and nodded slightly. He quickly turned, dropping the wobbly stance and punched the cop to his left full in the face, breaking his nose. Blood and teeth flew as Trisha kicked the other cop in the tenders. He dropped a little but still managed to keep a hold of her and try to restrain her. Hmmm, good cop. Almost too bad.

I got up off of my bench and, with a twist of my hand pulled the little silenced nine millimeter out of wherever it went; I dropped the illusion on my face and jacket. I pulled the trigger three times at the cop trying to hold Trisha. The first one slapped his shoulder, spraying a little blood on the cop behind him. The next two hit him near the center of his chest and he fell down, a surprised look on his face. Arnold; who had been yelling about catladies pulled a semi automatic pistol out of his coat and let the desk Sargent have it full in the face.

By now the half dozen other cops in the room were getting their wits about them, but it was already too late. People screamed and everyone not chained down bolted for the doors, trampling some little old lady. My two handcuffed to the bench each grabbed the nearest cop and struggled for their guns. John pulled the standard issue pistol from the holster of the man he knocked out and assisted our two chained brethren with their missions. Trisha shot the cop behind her, and I got the coward cop who tried to run for the door. One cop was left and he was just getting a bead on Trisha when I creeped up behind him and splattered the inside of his head on the ceiling. I laughed triumphantly as blood and other bits rained down on me.

"I think the city really needed to reassess their internal decoration. Well boys and girls? What do you think of my improvements?" I laughed and a few of the boys joined in. Trisha the coward was shaking and white. Don't worry dolly, I got something planned for you.

From somewhere deeper into the building the sound of more footsteps and gunshots echoed. "Sounds like our friends found some more toys! Go on kiddies, daddy will finish up here." Arnold pulled the rest of their masks out of his deep pockets and they all donned their other faces before running off to play cops and robbers. I looked around the now quiet station and breathed deep of the dead silence and the scent of blood. Nice, it should be an aftershave. I don't shave yet, but I'm sure I would like to use it when I do.

I moseyed over to where Trisha was emptying her stomach into a garbage can near the entrance. This close, I could see the deserted street, and hear the frantic screams of the people who, no doubt heard all of the shooting and crying coming from in here.

"Hello Trisha," I said, with a wide grin. "Do you know what I hate?"

She looked up from her bucket, sweat on her once pretty face. Her make up was all streaked and running. "I don't know, Joker."

"I hate cowards," I said, nodding over to where the coward cop now lay in a spreading pool of blood. A few flies had already managed to make it into the red sticky puddle. "They ruin everything. Cowards are easily manipulated, and that's why the police, or even the mob like them so much. After today, the cops are going to look for ways to crack my little army, and the first place they are going to look is at the cowards. Cowards betray, and they can get my army; and most importantly me, killed. You wouldn't want that to happen would you?"

"No, Joker," she said obediently. More expected lines, she was so imbedded into the plan that even as I spoke so clearly, she never saw it coming. I waited patiently until the first cop cars were pulling up outside, their sirens shrieking, before I turned and shot Trisha through the back of the knee cap. She screamed, her voice almost painfully loud against the hard walls. The shot was almost silent and with the cop cars outside no one downstairs heard anything. This is why I brought the silenced gun, because cops don't use knives. I could have killed her at anytime – made her vanish, and the rest of the Carnival would just assumed she couldn't handle it and fled. But here, like this, I could pull meaning from her death.

"What the fuck!" she screamed at me, holding her bleeding leg. I could have answered her, but she was crying and screaming obscenities; she wouldn't have heard me. She couldn't handle the pain. I raised the gun again and shot her in the head twice. Her head exploded in a very nice pattern and she fell to the ground twitching. I took one last look out at the police, making sure none of them were in a position to have seen anything before I turned and made my way downstairs.

Ten minutes later an ambulance screamed away from the police station, loaded down with people. Cops were more trouble, but they were still part of the plan; they still followed it like it would smite them if they didn't. And the plan said that when an a half dozen ambulances and firetrucks show up at a shooting in a cop house, you don't stop the ones speeding away to hospitals. Idiots. We even had a legitimate ambulance following us for a while, no doubt transporting one of the few surviving cops.

-

The three men we had rescued needed a hot meal and a shower, but other then that they were good. We had three bullet wounds, only one of which was anything near serious. The other two were little more then grazes. Trisha the coward was the only death, and I had to fight not to smile in glee.

People stood around looking lost while a few others darted around with a coffee pot and cups, just trying to keep busy. A few of them like John had seen fights and blood like that before, but most of them were little kiddies. They had never seen a man die right in front of them, or seen what a shotgun can do to a skull. Most of them were dealing with it pretty well and the rest were only a little shaky. I looked closely at all of the faces and was glad to see anger mixed with a little regret. There were no more cowards. Now all I needed was one idiot, and with this lot that's not too much to ask.

Funny it should be one of the men we saved. Jack, a tall thin man, mumbled to himself, and all I heard was something about 'Trisha' and 'deserving it' for doing something.

I leaped off the crate I had claimed as my little throne and stomped over to him. With a twist of my hand I pulled my pearl handled straight razor out of nothingness and had him on the ground in surprise before anyone could even make a move. "Say it again," I growled out. He just stared, open mouthed at the knife in my hand. The three who had got pinched had never seen my little trick yet, so I guess he was surprised. "Say it!" I shouted.

"I-I sa-said that s-she deserved it, after she cheated on me."

I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Sex, of course. Everything seemed to rotate around relationships. Alright, time to paint it on happy. "No, you lousy son of a bitch, she was one of us. One of _us_! Do you understand? Can you get that through your thick skull?"

"Joker," Anent said, placing a calming hand on my shoulder. "He's just worn out, he doesn't mean it."

"No!" I shouted, my voice echoing hard off the cement and cinder blocks. "Don't you understand! We were it. We were everything! I was worried about her, she was so scared and fragile; I followed her home one time." I didn't mention that she was scared and fragile because she was a damn dirty coward. If they drew some other conclusion, it was all good. "She has _nothing_! There are no parents to take care of her or for her to take care of. There's no boyfriend waiting with a kiss or even a punch. There's not even a damned cat! We were her family. Don't you understand?"

I looked around wildly at them all. My make-up was running from all the sweating I had been doing. "How many of you have something at home? Huh? I know I sure as hell don't." Good, shout loudly in chopped up sentences. That's what the plan says your supposed to do when our upset. Idiots ate every word, now onto the next step. "Would you all like to know how I got these scars?" I asked, waving at my face with the blade in my hand.

"It was a dark night. It actually happened only a few weeks ago. Do you remember the story about the serial killer going around with the knife, cutting people up? Well one night he shows up at my house. I was sleeping when he did my dog, but I heard him when he went into my parents room. I heard the gurgling of my father chocking on his own blood. I heard my mother scream as he died, and I heard it cut off when the killer took her throat out too. By then my big sister had come running into my room. She grabbed me, and started pushing me out the window, telling me to shimmy down the tree to escape like I did when I was grounded."

"He came in before I had made it down though. He grabbed my sister, and her shirt ripped." I shuddered, forming my face into something between rage and the look of someone close to vomiting, and let them draw their own conclusions. "I was frozen on the branch, I couldn't run, or think. He pulled me in, and made me look at her. I didn't realize it, but I was crying. He told me I shouldn't cry; he said that I'd join my family soon. He told me to smile, but I couldn't. So he helped me along. He stuck this blade in my mouth," I said holding up my straight razor. "And did this!"

"I don't expect that many of you lost your families that way, but you most certainly did. Was it drugs? Gambling? On your part or theirs? Deaths? Could they not handle that you were gay? Do you have aids or some other sickness that most people have a hang up on?" I watched their faces, and I saw them thinking. Perfect. "I live with my uncle now, and he calls me a freak. The people on the street look at me like I'm diseased. This place and you people are the only ones who accept me. Here we don't have to pretend to be normal or be stared at. Here you're all classified as freaks, like me. Here we're all family; the only family any of us have."

"So don't tell me to calm down, or shut up," I said to Anent with an edge of softness to my voice. "We are all any of us have. I will not have anyone talking down, beating down or general hurting this family." I deflated, trying to look like all of that emotional stuff had really taken it out of me. I sat heavily on a crate and let them think.

Silence filled the room, until Jack spoke again. "He's right. I'm sorry, I was an idiot."

The usual round of lines were thrown out; 'It's okay' and 'I'm sure it's just stress'.

I looked around at them, and saw something new. Before they only bared my leadership; but now ... now I had taken their little wanna-be street gang and turned it into a broken family. And the thing about broken families is that, sure you lose a few along the way; but what you end up with is like cast iron. No traitors, no cowards and willingness to do anything to protect what little they have built.

More voices spoke up until the entire warehouse was one voice. People paired off or moved into groups, talking about their pasts and forging bonds. A few even came over to talk to me; saying how 'sorry' they were for my family. Only John, and surprisingly enough Anent had seemed to make any progress toward shedding the plan. The rest were just soldiers; but they were now, _truly_, my soldiers.

The last surprise of the night happened just before the last of the guys were going home. It was about four in the morning and, although I seemed to get along fine with only two or thee hours' sleep, I knew I should start heading back. I had just wiped some of the wet make-up out of my eyes and I guess I smeared it across my forehead, because suddenly Monk, pony tailed and tattooed Monk, looked at me in awe. Then he said two words that opened the flood gate to my past, and quite likely my future.

Harry Potter?"

-

Eight months later.

I stood in front of a apartment building and watched the two moving trucks unloading. It was a five story building, almost a full block long. It had freshly cut grass and a few people were replanting the flower beds. It had thirty, one and two bedroom suites per floor and a large field behind it. John had a one bedroom to himself on the first floor, and Anent shared a suite with her new boyfriend. I wasn't too sure about him, but he hadn't done anything ... unbecoming yet.

Over the next month or so the rest of the Crimson Carnival would begin moving in, daily in ones and two. It wouldn't be smart to have them all come at once, especially with the new investigation.

The cops finally got smart; or more accurately, a little less stupid.

We had been knocking off bigger and bigger places for the past little while. Banks most recently. The take so far was in the millions. I didn't take much of the earnings, just a little bit here or there for some sweets, video games or that drum of gasoline last week. I knew who I was now, and apparently I was pretty rich.

At first I was a little weary about using that money, but then I found out that _their_ security and police type people were even _more_ incompetent and corrupt. So I had Monk take me to Gringotts. I took out a bit of cash, converted it into pounds and I announced that I had bought two apartment building to be used as barracks. The Crimson Carnival had expanded quite a bit as of late – we now numbered a little over a hundred – but the newbies were unsure of me; I changed their tune pretty quickly. I laughed just as John was coming toward me.

We talked a little about this or that. He showed me his new car. It was a big black truck; a few years old and not too fancy. I got up in the drivers seat and admired the view from there. Suddenly an engine roared and tires squealed as a car pulled into the parking lot.

When the money first started coming in from our bigger heists I sat the whole Family down and we had a discussion. I knew that when we started to make the big time we'd get some ... _porky_ attention. They were all told to be careful with their money. I would provide housing through a fake name and my own money, so they didn't have to worry about that. It was fine if they did something like get a newer car or pay off some debts; but keep it careful! There were a few Sunfires, an old jeep and even a buggie among the cars in the parking lot. There were a dozen or so other ones I didn't recognize – nothing looking like it was made before five years ago, and nothing flashy. Those were the only rules. They were simple; John helped me make them.

So why am I looking at Jack getting out of a shining silver sports car, with red racing stripes – still with the factory sticker and the dealership plates? Why do I see cocaine and liqueur bottles in his front seat? Why are there two girls with him; each dressed in fishnets and a bit of string? I dropped down from the high truck seat just as John's face started going sour.

"Hey, clown-boy!" Jack shouted loudly as he passed us, ruffling my hair and making the two girls laugh.

I stayed patient and quiet until he was in the building and then I looked up at John. He had a hard look on his face. Hmm, time for a final test for John, me thinks. I giggled a little just as an unmarked police car pulled up, stopping just a few stalls from us.

The man who got out was youngish, dressed in cloths that stood out only because they were so casual. He walked a circle around Jack's new car, making pointed mental notes of the cocaine and the factory sticker. John just waited beside me, both of us patient. Apparently the cop was finished, because he adjusted his jacket to a more comfortable position, letting us see his nine millimeter. I slowly snaked a hand into my pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. I knew what he wanted and he knew what I didn't want him to see.

"Morning," he said cheerfully, accepting a handshake and a thousand dollars in unmarked hundreds at once. "Nice apartments you got here, I might bring the missus out to look around."

"Always happy to see new tenants," John said casually, playing the part of the 'adult'.

Happy with his payoff the cop went back to his car and drove away.

"That was one of the guys from the task force that's after us, wasn't he?" I asked quietly, as the unmarked car made a right turn and vanished from sight.

"Looked like."

"John," I said slowly. "He endangered the Family again."

He grunted in response.

"Go upstairs; pay the girls and send them on their way. Then grab Jack and take one of the people you trust with you to drive you back. I want that car and everything in it at the bottom of a river."

He nodded gruffly and started to go off, but I stopped him with a hand on his arm. "That cop could have brought the Family down. And with what we've done to stay alive, a lot of us would have been looking at a strapped chair and a lethal needle." Now the big test. It was fine to follow my orders when in the heat of battle or against punks. But what about following my orders when it involved murdering one of our own? "I think it would be best if Jack was in the drivers seat when the car goes in."

He tensed under my hand, and for an instant I thought he was going to take a swing at me, but then he relaxed, nodded once more, and continued toward the front entrance. Excellent.

My little army now had it's first Lieutenant; and I had just the person for the second. I looked up at the curtains swaying in Anent's room.

-

Only two more weeks until I get my letter, and everything is finally starting to fall into place.

Carlos is a very good tailor; he was recommended by many of the people I ... asked. I chuckled darkly at my own little joke. I have been having a lot of fun lately, building up the Crimson Carnival; my own little broken family. Now, it was time to take the first steps in that goal I made for myself all those months ago; to take down the mob. They were worthy opponents. I was certain of that now.

I looked at myself in the full length mirror and liked what the Carlos had done so far. He came back into the reflection just as I was straitening my blue tie. I turned around once to make sure my deep purple slacks looked good all around and I was not disappointed. Old and gray Carlos moved with skilled hands and helped me into the matching jacket, completing my new suit. I remember the day many months ago when I said that I would never want anything expensive, and I have to made a change to that. This suit is everything I could want, and worth every penny I was going to pay for it and it's three brothers.

"How does it feel Mr. Kerr?"

"Very good, Carlos," I said pleasantly, letting my illusion fall so that I could get the full feel of my new look. The scars on my face never really healed properly; I would always have them. I grinned widely at myself and liked the effect. "Very good indeed. Now, if there is nothing else My associates and I have a meeting to get too. I shall send someone by tomorrow to pick up the rest of the suits and pay the tab."

"Fine," Carlos said, wiping the seat from his face.

I stepped off of the stool and nodded to John and two of the other newer guys. They had been playing poker or something and they quickly put away the cards and chips before falling in step behind me as I walked to the door. "Oh," I said, my hand on the handle. "Just remember, if you ever tell anyone that you made this suit, I will find your wife and kids."

He collapsed into a chair and cried after the door closed.

-

We pulled up outside the run down old warehouse and I couldn't help but grin at all of the cars parked around in the shadows cast by the full moon. I paid special care to get in and out of the limo very carefully, sure not to wrinkle my new cloths. John, Anent, Monk and two other tough looking types with guns got out with me. The two guys; Arnold and Frank I believe, stayed with the limo, looking menacingly at the other gents waiting around cars, wearing their uncomfortable suits with bulges that looked a lot like Uzi's and handguns.

I lead the way; John and Anent a step behind me and Monk behind them. There was a little trouble with the doorman, but we _convinced_ him to let us in. My laughter proceeded me.

In the main hanger of the warehouse it was brightly lit with high ceilings. In the middle of everything two dozen tables had been set up in a square and covered with crisp white table cloths. Around the edges men, both young and old, and a few fridged looking women sat comfortably on hard wooden chairs. Most of them looked a little on the aged side, with a little streak of malice in their eyes. I grinned widely, but inside I was disappointed. I had not chose well. These men didn't understand how things really worked. Yes, they seemed to have some grasp of fear, but they succumbed to the plan. A different splinter of the plan then most; but the plan it still was.

Some were cowards; others were just greedy, but they all followed the set rules. They even wore all the right cloths and spoke the way the plan told them too. The plan was many-layered, and each layer preyed on the next. The bottoms was the layer the most people lived in. These men and women live on a higher lever, a more predatory level; but they were still weak. They allowed themselves to be controlled.

"Gentlemen!" I said jovially, bringing many of the guns in the place out from their hiding spots. Undeterred I continued on, waving at my happy little Family to keep calm.

"Who the fuck are you?" said a man with a very deep Italian accent. He wore a pure white suit, and I could almost see the blood stains on it. The files Jacob had nicked from the Police said this was Tommy Tudesky – A.K.A. Tommy Knuckles; very unimaginative. Sounds like an idiot.

"Holy shit," one of them muttered when I stepped fully into the light, letting them get a good look at all of me; from my warm smile to my sparky new get up.

"The name is Joker, nice to meet you," I crowed, laughing loud and long to the sky.

"Well, this party has no need for a clown," one of the older gents said. He waved at one of his goons and the lumbering ox came at us, pulling a machete out of inside his coat somewhere.

"How about a magician?" I asked, just as Ox-man got over to me. He took a broad swipe with his big butter knife and none of my people moved an inch; just like they were told. I flicked my straight razor out of the nothingness it went and deflected the machete. The Ox was very surprised, so when I climbed up his body like a little monkey and chopped his nose off; he screamed very nicely. I slit his throat before he could get a grip on me with his huge hands and road him into the concrete like a pony, relishing the sound of his teeth shattering in the stone.

I stood over him for a second, just to make sure he was dead, and then I turned my grin back on full blast and moseyed over to the chair that they were no doubt saving for Jimmy Pliers. I really wonder if it's a requisite to have a stupid name.

"Hey, who they fuck do you think you are?" asked a young kid. His name apparently was also the 'Kidd'. I can't believe this guy is running anything. "That chair is for-"

"Jimmy Yawny; I know. Just a second, I'm sure I have the club decoder ring here somewhere." I rummaged around in my pockets for a little bit before John made with the souvenir we picked up earlier today. "Ahh, thank you John." I took the severed and still sticky hand from him and slapped it on the table, letting everyone see it as I worked the huge emerald ring off the pinky.

"That's Jimmy's ring," Papa Black said shakily. He was one of only two black men in on this little boy scout meeting; the other was Bloody Henry. "How did you get it?"

"With a chainsaw," I said, breathing on the ring and wiping the blood off with a handkerchief handed to me my Anent. "It's his hand too. The rest of him is in a pig trough at a farm though. He should be pig shit by tonight."

"What the fuck makes you think you can just walk in here and fuck with us, huh?" Papa Black shouted. "Listen up you little shit wipe! We own _everything_! You don't know who your fuckin' with!"

"Actually I do," I said, giggling, waving cheerfully at the gloomy bastards to my left and right. "I own Surrey now, and so I have a place at this little quarterly circle jerk."

"_You _own Surrey," one of the men who had been quiet so far said. "Kid, a few scars down make a Boss. What army could you possibly have to hold down such a claim. Sure, I give you props for taking out Jimmy; he was a dick. But to claim that you now _own _Surrey? Am I missing something?"

"Yes," I said seriously, letting my grin fall. "I do have an army _and _the strength to hold Surrey. I have a Family stronger then anything that Italian wannabe Jimmy ever had."

"A Family?" wheezed the old geezer Elmo. He was old county gangster. Real Godfather stuff. And if you ever made a joke about a certain red plushy, he will have you stuffed, dyed red and wrapped up under the Christmas tree for your kids on Christmas morning. "There are only five real Families in London, and I would know if someone like you were a part of any of them."

"Oh, no Godfather," I said with something half way to respect. This man is key to my plan, at least for right now. "I must admit I did not mean Family in that sense. I meant that I have created my own Family."

"What?" cracked Papa Black looking over my people standing at my back. "Those inbred idiots?"

"How many lives and families – in the household sense – have you torn apart with your drug business? Hmm? How about those girls you grab off the street and 'turn out'? How many sons, fathers, daughters and sisters have watched you execute someone, or know you did it? How many people have you crippled or bankrupt, forcing them out onto the streets with nothing?"

"We are the broken backs you walked over to get your fortune; we are the crying mothers who lost their child because of additions to your 'product'; we are the sons swearing vengeance against you for killing our fathers. We are retribution; we have banded together in something larger and more powerful then anything in your worst nightmares, and we're going to tear your down one by one until we control everything you stole from us."

Silence echoed loudly in the damp space after my little speech wound down; until Elmo's laughter filled it. I joined in and for a time it was just the two of us laughing while everyone else looked worried. I suppose they didn't like the idea of their top man sharing a laugh with the guy who just reduced their numbers.

"I am going to hunt down and kill every one of you!" spat Papa Black, slamming a fist onto the table, knocking over someone's drink.

"Shut up, Steve," said Elmo, wiping a tear from his eye. Papa Black looked about ready to spit blood, but he clammed up and leaned back in his chair. "Now, kid-"

"Joker."

"For now, you're kid. You have to earn your name among us."

Everyone screamed and yelled about that. Many hands were slammed and a few guns were pulled out. Behind me John and the others looked a little nervous, but when I just sat there, flipping one of my Joker cards between my fingers, they calmed themselves and tried to look bored with everything. Very good. They were leaning their latest lesson well.

"You're considering letting this piece of shit in?"

"It took me and mine ten _years_ to get a place at this table!"

"He's just a kid! He can't be any older then my brat."

"I will not allow it!"

"I will shoot him myself before I let him sit at this table."

"Challenge accepted!" I said cheerfully, jumping back into the boiling conversation. John pulled my silence pistol out from the inside pocket of the suit he was wearing and tossed it to me. I jumped up onto the table, ran along it's length – dodging a few arms and bullets as they figured out what I was planning to do, and skidded to a stop in front of the man who owned a small city much like Surrey just outside London; Turnstile I think it was called. I put two bullets into his face, shot both of his body guards in the chest, and dropped down into his seat before anyone could even react.

Again screaming and name calling ensued as I casually glanced over at John and nodded to the chair I had just vacated. He got the idea and moved to sit down; thereby becoming my representative of Surrey. Apparently Bloody Henry and a couple others didn't like how all of this was going, so they pulled out their own guns and started shooting. I joined in the fun, only managing to take out two more guards. I wasn't really trying to take another Boss. We had the strength to take and secure one more small town, and I had planned on gaining one tonight; but two new areas were beyond our current numbers.

Monk took a shot in the shoulder and a half dozen other idiots died before Elmo's men who were station all around the edges of the room let loose with their shotguns and AK-47's into the ceiling – and a few more daring body guards when they wouldn't stop. A few more bodies hit the floor before quiet was once again established.

"If I ever catch any of you incestuous fleabags doing something that stupid ever again I will kill everyone of you and start over!" Elmo roared in a voice that betrayed his graying hair and wrinkles.

Someone decided to whine a bit "But the Joker-"

"There was an open challenge and threat on his life. The Joker, was a little over zealous," he said, giving me a look that said not to let it happen again. "But he was well within his right to respond in the way he did."

I looked over at where John was holding down Surrey and saw Anent pressing a bandage to Monks bullet wound once she was sure he'd survive; then she stood back up and took her place as bodyguard just behind John. Very good.

"Are you going to come after me?" growled Bloody Henry in anger.

"If you look weak," I responded with a shrug and a laugh.

"Good," Elmo said, glaring around at the idiots. They all stared back at him with something between horror and disbelief. "You all have gotten fat and lazy these last thirty years. It is about time things went back to the way they were before. You all have your little drug trades and you wack a guy here and there and you all think your king shit. But you forget what it's _really_ like to survive. This kid knows what it's all about, and I think having him coming after all your fat asses will weed out the useless ones. So, yes, I am going to let him sit at this table. And if he thinks he can take another one of you because you're weak, I'm not going to do anything."

I grinned wickedly around at all the grown men as they stared at me; and I laughed at the mix of fear and rage that I saw there.

-

I got my letter two days ago; I hid it shortly after.

The fat man seemed very happy when my eleventh birthday came and went without him seeing any letters. I heard him whispering to Petunia late at night about how he stomped the freakishness out of me.

Last night I sat down with Monk and we discussed what I was going to do. Would I go to this school? Or would I continue with what I have started here. It was early in the morning when I finally came to a decision. If I could find more people like me; more freaks. And not just magical freaks; I mean real freaks, then it would make taking London all that much easier. I could use people who can fight the plan like I do; people who share my thinking. And hell, I may even find a few worthy opponents there to pass my time. I giggled to myself. If not, then I'd just drop out and come back to the Crimson Carnival.

I was in my cupboard when I heard the first sirens; it was time. I had brought one of my suits here the other day and I slipped into it carefully, making sure not to get it dusty. I heard a crunch of wood as the front door was kicked open and I picked the lock on my door. I heard the fat man scream and try to fight, but he was no doubt taken back by the picture of a cop kicking in his door.

I stepped out into the light and crowed bodies as more and more people streamed into the room through the door. Anent was standing right in front of me when I made my appearance, and so she looked back and got a good look at my accommodations before I closed the door. She looked a little sick, but she knew her roll and she did it for the Family; the only family so many of them had.

I made my way through the bodies, most of them dressed in regular street cloths and carrying handguns – my army, plus three others who were in cop uniforms. The space that was made for me opened up into a brightly lite living room. The curtains were closed and the TV was on and muted. The fat man had been handcuffed and jammed into a chair and Petunia and my wale of a cousin were pressed into the sofa.

I went and sat down in the chair that had been moved right next to the TV, putting myself right across from my relatives. The fat man yelled about warrants and how the TV shows said that they needed them; they of course being the three kind police officers who offered their time this evening.

I had hacked two grand off of each of their debts to me. Their debts had originally been to the mob slob who ran this town, but now it was up to me, and I could be very generous if they played nicely.

"You!" bellowed the fat man when he finally noticed me sitting in front of him, with my illusion up and my nice purple suit all neatly pressed. "You have something to do with this!"

"Shut him up," I said casually, not taking my eyes off of him. One of my soldiers wrapped most of a roll of duct tape around his face; worked nicely. I'll have to remember that. Petunia made a noise like she was going to scream or screech or something else unpleasant. "I can just as easily silence you as well." She held her tongue. The fat man tried to get up twice, and each time John shoved him back down; finally he got the message and sat still.

"Fr-" Petunia started, but then thought better of it when a dozen or so people with guns got sour looks on their faces. "Boy, what is all of this? Do you know who these people are?"

"We're his real family," Anent hissed in anger. She gripped the pistol in her hands hard, until her knuckles were white and I wondered if the gun might go off.

My 'aunt' looked Anent up and down, sneering at her leathers and piercings. We were all dirtying her carefully maintained image of a normal family so much that her fear over strangers in her house was overcome. "What are you freaks doing in my house. Get out, all of you!"

"I don't think so," I said smoothly, but she ignored me.

"I said get out! We will not be bullied by a bunch of street punks this way."

I nodded to one of the police officers; a detective Malone. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of formal looking paper. "What I have here is a 'no-knock' warrant for the search of this home."

"What's this garbage?"

"This is a warrant sighed by a judge," he continued. "I assure you it is not garbage."

"You come in here with these," she said gesturing around at my soldiers, words apparently failing her. "And you expect me to believe that you're a police officer?"

I'm pretty sure she would have ranted on for a long while more – maybe even thrown things, but then the other two cops drew her attention to themselves with a cough. I had made special care to get these two men here tonight. She knew them well. When ever she called the police to come investigate some 'horrendous' crime the neighbors committed, it was usually these two that showed up at her step. She stopped speaking and her face grew ashen. She turned back to me, no doubt looking for an explanation, and I pulled a very thick envelope out of my inside jacket pocket. She collapsed into her chair in defeat as though this one bit of mail made all of this possible.

Weak minded fool.

"We thought – Vernon said he stomped it out of you," she whispered in fear and disgust, looking at my Hogwarts letter like it might grown teeth and bite her.

A look of revulsion swept across the faces of all those standing within hearing distance. Two people near the back went into the hall, already dialing large black cellphones, no doubt calling more doubters. Many of my soldiers had not fallen fully into my image of being emotionally wounded and crippled like them. I wasn't, but it bred loyalty for them to think that. This night would clear all the rest of the doubts from the air and I would have my iron army.

"My magic has been responding to me consciously for almost a year and a half now," I said.

"That's impossible," Petunia almost shouted. "Lily couldn't do anything until she came back from that freak school. Who taught you?" She looked around suspiciously at the people around us. "One of them?"

"Not until after," I said mysteriously. Monk had told me about the 'statue of secrecy'. I didn't really care about it, but any knowledge that you had could be a weapon against those who are ignorant; so for now I would place nice. But here, surrounded by my soldiers and men who owe me too much to talk, I could let a little out.

"I'm mostly self-taught, but," I said nodding to Monk, tattoos and all. "Monk Prewett, the son of a respected accountant, was kind enough to teach me some of what he learned over in Australia."

Petunia looked down her nose at Monk just as Dudley got over his fear of the strangers and began to loudly demand the remote control or sweets or some other stupid thing. He got the duct tape deluxe a moment later much to my glee. His mother screeched and I laughed loudly as Jacob typed away on his computer.

"Stop this," the banshee screamed at me, but then stopped and went very still.

"Oh, this?" I asked softly in the silence, flicking my straight razor in and out of the nothingness. "Yes, it seems I have a bit of a gift. According to Monk there is a continuing study into people like me. See, there was once this girl, and she had an unbelievable ability. She was beaten many times by those who feared what she could do, but it only made it worse. Magic seemed to respond to her unconscious mind more then it did to her wishes. When she was afraid it made her feel better by making the scary boys go away, or bringing her teddy to her, but she didn't have a choice on how it responded to her. It was wild and powerful, and everyone has those little voices in their head that they ignore, or pretend aren't there."

"She ended up killing the boys, and years later her mother by accident. She fell into her madness and instead of escaping from the world it only magnified her power until it got to the point where her bad moods could blow up buildings. Her name was Ariana and she died almost a hundred years ago; but her older brothers, one in particular has a need to understand why. So he created a foundation to look into people like her."

"Would you like to know what they found?" I asked happily, giggling a little. "They already knew that magic was all about will, but they had never wondered how an abnormal mind with an will different then their own would effect it, until recently."

"A mind that has 'broken', or in other words moved up and on from the narrow minded thinking that all people now seem to suffer from, manifests that magic in unpredictable ways early on. They found the most dramatic results in people who were abused; mentally, sexually, or even physically from an early age. Pretty much anything that would warrant a visit from the men in white coats; a therapy session or six dozen, anything like that. Their minds begin to move in strange ways, making connections in the brain that 'rational' people could never achieve, and thereby unlocking some primal function of magic."

"Some, like Ariana, manifest uncontrolled burst of what appear to be accidental magic, others have displayed everything from such minor things as changing little things about their appearance or the ability to call butterflies to them, all the way up to and including massive environmental and physical manipulation. I would go on, but I can see I am already loosing your pathetic mind." Petunia tried to protest, but being shown the duct tape quieted her pretty fast. "It's called the Ariana Syndrome in honor of that little girl, and I have it. I seem to have the ability of illusion. I can hide one object at a time so completely, that no one could ever find it." I flicked my knife back into the nothingness and folded my hand in my lap. "I can even hide my face."

My 'aunt' gasped in horror and disgust as my real face appeared, painted up and pretty. "Your him."

"Oh," I said happily, pointing over my shoulder to the TV. "So you've seen some of this?" One of the boys turned the volume back on and I just sat there and watched all three of them grow ashen.

"Police are asking for any information on the identity or location on this man." The picture flickered to a still shot taken of me; the angle was high and the quality wasn't the greatest. They probably got the picture from a camera across a street or something. Next it went to a shot clip of me flipping my knife out. The shot was taken from behind so they didn't get my face at all.

"His age is unknown, but police estimate it to be about twenty five. He also appears to have some slight of hand skills that may point to employment or training as a magician or other circus act. If you do know anything do not approach him; he is armed and extremely dangerous..."

"I have a new family now, and they are strong," I gestured around at the men, women and cops standing around the clean living room. "You are not going to bother me ever again. I am not going to be your slave ever again. I will be leaving with my people in just a few minutes and you will never see me again unless_ I _wish it, but I will be watching you; so don't make it difficult. If anyone comes to the door asking about me you will turn them away. If they have documents or a lawful reason to seek me out you will tell them I am either in school or out. You will give them one of these numbers to call if it is not school hours," I said as Anent dropped a folder piece of paper on the table.

"All of them will go directly to one of my people and they will take care of it. If it is during school time you will tell them to contact the school. Mrs Honey owes me a great debt from releasing her from a rather distasteful contract and she will now be paying it off by covering my absences. If anything else comes up one of my people will take care of it?"

"What are you," Petunia asked quietly.

"A wizard? The new boss of Surrey? Sick? I don't know exactly, but I am also all of those things and you would do well to remember it," I said threateningly before I got up, laughing at my own little joke. "Lets go."

I was first out the door. I carried nothing away from that damned place; it could all burn for all I cared. One by one my people followed me out, piling into the cars parked outside in the setting sun. I got in the passenger seat of one of the cops cars, cackling and hollering with the sirens as we sped away.

-

Four days later I was just watching a little TV on the nineteen inch when there was a knock on the door. I got up and let John and Anent in, I had called them over to have a discussion. I chuckled a little, flicking one of my joker cards between my fingers. "Sit down anywhere."

I turned off the TV and dropped into the chair across from them when they both sat on the couch. "I already told you both I'll be going to Hogwarts in September, and I called you both here to discuss what's going to happen over here."

"Alright," John said. Anent just nodded.

"When I'm gone I want both of you to take over joint control of the Crimson Carnival."

"Really?" Anent asked happily

"Yup, although you both need to do it. John is the strength, he knows what needs to be done and he can follow through with it; and you are the softer side, you will think things through more. No offense John but your more of a problem smasher and Anent is the thinker; together you'll both do fine."

"Wow, thanks Joker!" Anent said beaming.

"I am trusting both of you to do what is right for everyone. Monk is talking about getting me a way to keep in touch with everything going on over here, so I'll want to be kept informed, but everything is going to be on your hands. Think you can handle it?"

"Would you even propose this if you weren't sure we could handle it?" John asked, with a cocky smirk.

"Nope," I said smoothly. "And if you guessed that, I'm sure you already know what I'm going to say next."

"If we try to take over or cause a mutiny you'll take care of us?" John said with a chuckle.

I burst into a fit of laughter and nodded. "You got it." Anent smile slipped a little when I said that, but she seemed to understand it. I had come up with a bit of a plan for what I would like them to accomplish while I was away, but before I could even start into it a furry little surprise showed itself.

The sound of scrabbling just outside the open widow made all of us turn just in time to see a little black and white ferret pop into view. The little guy must have climbed up the side of the building, using the drain pipes as footing. He wriggled his way through the screen and dropped down onto the carpet, sniffing around for a moment before he started bounding around the room in what can only be described as a crack induced joy-on.

Anent giggled and I laughed as the little guy fluttered around, a rolled up sheet of what looked like computer paper was pushed into his little green collar. I think the funniest thing was the little mask – also green – that seemed to have been cut out of felt and wrapped around his face.

John was just looking annoyed by the thing. "Oh, cheer up John, no one knows who we are. He's not carrying an lethal agent or anything." He grunted an agreement, but still eyed the little ball of fuzz and crack as he darted under my chair and appeared beside my head a moment later, apparently very proud of himself. He tilted his head to the side, presenting the paper to me. I assumed the note was for me and I tried to pull it off, but he was jumping around in excitement too much. "Alright little dude, calm down."

I read the note once, and then stopped and read it again.

No, there was no way this could be ... I burst into fits of laughter so powerful I was almost crying. This was what I had been hoping to find, and it had come to me.

"What does it say?" Anent asked. I passed her the note and she read it, apparently not getting the significance. I wiped away a tear and reached over, motioning for her to give the paper back to me. I flattened it out on the table so that John could see it as well.

-

_Laughing Man_

_Is it possible to see Big Ben chime at ten O'clock, the sun just cresting the Pyramids of Egypt and the moon from the moors of Ireland all within a single day? _

_Many think not, but only those that look down can see the burning sun._

_I am walking down the street, staring at all the fool walking with blindfolds._

_Have you found the crack in the Old Yankee's Bell? _

_So many only ever look at it's other side._

_Beryl Coronet_

_-  
_

"I still don't get it?"

"I'll have Jacob do a search for that name," John said, getting up.

"Sit down," I said casually, waving him down. "The name is part of the riddle."

"What does it mean?" Anent said, still reading it over a few times, trying to get some meaning from the words.

"Well, the address should be pretty obvious," I said, indicating to my scars and smeared make-up. "The next line we'll come back to. Line three said '_only those who look down can see the burning sun._"

"But the sun is up," she said.

"Yeah, but it's a metaphor. What is the most obvious thing is the sky?"

"The sun," John said, still glaring at the ferret suspiciously.

"Exactly, but since it is the biggest thing there, most people just ignore it. It's a metaphor for how people ignore the most obvious things in their lives; becoming slaves to the plan and not even realizing it. So, '_only those who look down' _refers to those who fight the plan and do something different see what most people ignore. '_I am walking down the street, staring at all the fool walking with blindfolds' _confirms this."

"Oh!" Anent exclaimed happily, seeing the point.

"Then we have '_Have you found the crack in the Old Yankee's Bell? So many only ever look at it's other side'. _The Old Yankee's Bell was one of the names for the Liberty Bell until 1837. But again, it's another metaphor. Tell me, have you ever heard of the bell curve?"

"Wasn't that some racist book?"

"Not the book, I mean the theory of 'normal distribution'."

"How do you know these things?" Anent asked, a little amazed that I knew these random facts.

"I only need two hours of sleep a night and the rest of the night you guys are sleeping, so I sometimes go out into the town and cause mischief or end up breaking into the library. There's not a whole lot to do at night, and part of the plan is ignorance; in order to fight the plan properly I must know more then the common idiot."

"I see," she said slowly.

"Anyway, the bell curve," I said, turning us back onto the riddle. "It says that any test or question given to a decent sample of people will give you varying yet common answers. For instance, if someone were to take all the... I dunno, heights of males in Britain we would find some tall men, some short men, but most would be in the middle."

I traced a basic bell shape onto the table, starting low for the short people, arching high for the average and then dropping once more for the tall men. "This is the bell curve, and when the riddle asks about a cracked curve, it's asking me if I have broken away from the commonness of people; asking me if I've seen the plan."

"So he knows of the plan?" Anent asked. I had introduced both of them to my ideas a while back and they seemed to embrace it.

"I don't think he's gotten quiet that far yet," I said looking over the riddle again. "But he definitely see that something has a hold over people."

"So, what does the first line mean?"

"By itself, nothing. But when we look at the signature something quiet extraordinary appears."

"Like what?"

I laughed. "Have you ever heard of the author, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle?"

"The Adventure of Beryl Coronet," John said, looking down at the paper.

"Who?" Anent asked.

"The Adventure of Beryl Coronet was a Sherlock Holmes story," I explained. "And we all know his most famous maxim; 'if you eliminate all the impossible, whatever remains, however unlikely, must be the truth.' And if we apply that to the first line."

"It's impossible," Anent said.

"Is it not also impossible for someone to hide a knife inside of nothing?" I asked, flipping my straight razor in and out of nothing once for emphasis. "Assuming whoever this is did do all of that in one day, what could be a possible explanation?"

John looked at the hand that vanished my knife in something like awe and Anent took an extra second. "They have it too!"

"Yes," I said gleefully. "Who ever this is does seem to have the Ariana Syndrome too. And unless I am greatly mistaken this letter is pretty much a single question; '_Are you like me_?'."


End file.
